


When The Storm Breaks

by Lillie_Moreau



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4987372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillie_Moreau/pseuds/Lillie_Moreau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even from the beginning, Damien never had a problem with the way Eliot worked. However, when business is mixed with pleasure, situations turn volatile and people get hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Great Eliot Spencer

**Author's Note:**

> These are my four favorite characters in the whole series despite the small amount of screen time that Quinn and Chapman get. So I am just rolling with ideas. I hope readers enjoy this story because I am certainly having fun writing it. I apologize for any mistakes.
> 
> I do not own any of the characters...only the original characters are mine.

Chapter One: The Great Eliot Spencer

Eliot Spencer walked through the streets of Belgrade with his hood pulled up over his head. He cautiously looked around each corner. His paranoia level had increased exponentially since he had had someone in the military call for him and his team to be terminated. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do without a job. He had no steady source of income anymore even with the occasional wet work jobs and just traveling was lowering his already dwindling funds. Eliot let out a sigh of frustration and slipped into a back alley bar hoping to get a cheap meal and drink before spending the nights running through the streets, trying to keep warm. As soon as he entered the bar, he knew he had made a mistake. He could pick out security men a mile away and there were at least twenty standing and sitting at various tables around the small establishment. In the far back corner with his back to the wall, facing the door, a handsome man sat staring at him. Eliot gave him a once over and knew from his suit, which probably cost nearly fifteen thousand dollars, that he was important. Whether he was part of the criminal underworld or not, Eliot had not yet determined. As Eliot was sitting down with his food and beer, a man near his age walked up to him. He was wearing an equally expensive suit and every strand of his brown hair was perfectly styled in place.

“You need to leave,” the man hissed, his soft Irish accent surprising Eliot. He look at him for a few minutes before he continued to sip his beer. 

“I am going to stay here until I finish my food and my beer. I have no intention to bother you,” Eliot replied. The other man continued to glare at him before his boss called. 

“Blake!” the man snapped. “Here. Now!” The man named Blake hurried over to the man and leaned down while something was whispered in his ear. Blake furrowed his brow but nonetheless walked back over to Eliot. 

“Mr. Moreau would like to speak with you,” Blake replied curtly. 

Eliot nearly choked on his food when he realized that he had walked unknowingly into the territory of Damien Moreau. He almost wished that it was the Army asking for a sit down meeting. However, he was not an idiot and no one said no to Damien Moreau. Slowly he stood up and let Blake check him for weapons. He only had one gun on him which Blake quickly confiscated, but he had plenty of knives that he knew the man would never find. When Blake was finished frisking him he sat down across from Moreau at a slight angle so he could see the entrance as well. When Eliot first sat down, Moreau was busy typing away on his computer and didn't bother to look up right away. 

Eliot could hardly believe that no one spoke of the man's looks, though he knew that was largely in part to the fact that not many people survived face to face encounters with the man. The man was beautiful to say the least. His ebony hair was styled to perfection and his eyes were icy blue and ruthless. He had a sharp and stern jawline with a height, as well as fashion sense, which was sure to make any man in the room feel inadequate. Eliot watched Moreau's every move very carefully, as though waiting for a snake to spring from the grass. He also took the time to observe Moreau's head of security but in a more subtle manner. He wanted Blake to think that he was so caught up in the man before him that he would let down his guard. There was something about Blake that made him uneasy. Eventually Moreau looked up at Eliot and did a double take as he looked over Eliot's boots, jeans, black beater, and blue plaid over shirt paired with his worn black leather jacket and navy blue baseball cap. 

"What is your name?" Moreau asked, sipping from his drink. 

"Eliot," he said. Moreau raised an eye brow to coax out a last name which Eliot flinched at. "Spencer. My last name is Spencer." 

"Eliot Spencer, you're not…quiet what I had pictured," Moreau said coolly. Eliot saw Blake smirk and felt a flare of anger that he couldn't contain. 

"And neither are you, Damien Moreau. I pictured a sweaty, bald and fat guy sitting behind a too small desk smoking a cigar," Eliot snapped. Seconds after the words left his mouth Eliot mentally kicked himself. Moreau was one of the most dangerous men in the world. He might as well poke a lion with a very short stick. Blake's face drained of all color and Moreau stared at him in total shock before he started laughing. He turned to look at Blake. 

"I like this one," he said, still chuckling. He extended his hand and Eliot shook it in return feeling relief wash over his body. 

“So, why are you in my bar?” Damien purred, his voice soft and smooth like silk. Eliot felt a shiver run down his spine. 

“I needed food and a place that I felt was safe from wandering eyes. I can’t exactly just be roaming around on the streets,” Eliot replied. Damien smiled brightly but Eliot noticed that the sparkle didn’t reach his cold eyes. 

“I could provide you with protection from whomever is looking for you. I can also provide you with money and…better clothes,” Damien taunted. 

For a few moments the older man just stared at Eliot, his face starting to light up with curiosity. Damien had heard of the famous Eliot Spencer, his reputation was deadly and he would be a strong asset to the security team. Damien tilted his head to one side, studying the man in front of him. A hunger and lust filled his body and he wanted to claim him. However, he wanted to test him first. He knew that Eliot had a reputation for being loyal but loyalty always came with a price. Damien reached across the table and placed his hand over Eliot’s. A spark ignited through Eliot’s body and he was glad that he was sitting down for fear that his knees would have given out, but he was unable to hide the catch in his breathing. 

“Service to me comes with a price. I know your reputation in wet work and that is actually the reason we are here. I need someone dealt with,” Damien commented vaguely. “They have become a liability.” Eliot nodded understanding exactly what Damien wanted. As he stared into the other man’s eyes he felt something shift within him. He wanted Moreau's approval, his praise. 

“Tell me who, when and where. I will personally make sure that no one even remembers who they are,” Eliot said softly. Damien smiled happily at the response and clapped his hands together.

“Glad we could strike a deal,” he replied. He pulled out a file and handed it to Eliot. “All the information is in that. You have twelve hours Spencer. I like you, so I can only hope you succeed.” 

“I haven’t failed yet,” Eliot replied. He stood up and walked out of the bar smirking at Blake who looked beyond irritated. The next time Eliot saw Damien Moreau was in his private suite in his hotel, telling him the news that there was no longer a liability from the man. 

Damien sat on a large king size bed lounging comfortably. All of his security was in place so he saw no need to be on edge any more than usual. He had enjoyed a rather large breakfast and now he was able to relax and be content to flip channels on the TV. He looked down at his watch and noted that Eliot had only forty-five minutes left in his twelve hour span. Unexpected butterflies flew around his stomach and he found himself hoping that Eliot would arrive soon. It would be a shame to waste talent such as Spencer’s. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind that he would have to send his head of security to kill Eliot, the man walked in the door with a smug look on his face. 

“Spencer, my friend!” Damien explained. “I am glad you made it. I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to show up. What was the problem?” Eliot raised an eye brow, slightly surprised that Damien knew there was a problem. 

“His security detail hadn’t cleared out yet. I had to get a little messy with things, but don’t worry. I left no mess and the bodies will never be found,” Eliot replied. Damien got off the bed and poured to glasses of the nice scotch that was in the room despite it being before noon. 

“Congratulations, you have yourself a job. I have to say that I am impressed with you. You have quite the resume, Spencer,” Damien said.

As he raised the glass to his lips Eliot suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the glass from Damien’s hand causing the older man to give him a shocked and confused look. Eliot wasn't sure what had possessed him to think that the scotch was poisoned but he had learned to trust his instincts over the years. Eliot set his own glass down and smelled the scotch in Damien's glass. He dipped his finger in and left a little drop on his tongue. A tingling feeling graced Eliot’s tongue and he spit out the tiny taste. He set Damien’s glass down next to his own, a worried look on his face. 

“That decanter has been poisoned,” Eliot said. Fear flashed through Damien’s eyes, even though it was only for half a second. Then rage poured off him in waves. He stormed out into the living room and grabbed Blake by the throat. The young man look absolutely terrified at Moreau’s sudden and blinding anger.

“You are my head of security, Blake. So tell me, why was my decanter of scotch poisoned and you didn’t notice?” Damien screamed. "Maybe you're incompetent or maybe you were hoping I would indeed be poisoned. Either way, you have penance to pay for your neglect if you ever want me to trust you again."

Blake choked but was unable to answer. Eliot took it upon himself and looked around the room and picked out the security man that was shifting nervously from foot to foot. Eliot walked over to him and dragged him to one of the spare rooms of the large suite. He punched the man in the solar plexus causing him to double over. 

“Please, don’t kill me!” the man begged as he gasped for air. 

Eliot couldn’t help but chuckle as he punched the man in the face, hearing his nose crunch under the blow. Immediately Eliot tilted the young man's head back and dragged the bleeding man into the bathroom and threw him in the tub. It was easier to get blood out of tile grout than it was carpet. He was shaking with anger as he pulled out a gun from the back of his pants, screwing in a silencer. The man continued to scream and plead, saying that he would give up the man who had contracted the hit. Eliot took the name, though he knew the name he got was fake, and then aimed the gun back at the man.

“I have no reason to keep you alive. You are a traitor and a snitch which makes you a problem for everyone even if you weren't the mastermind behind poisoning. I’m sure you know how Moreau deals with liabilities,” Eliot said.

He fired one shot to the man’s head. He would let him bleed out for a while and then wash everything away. He could easily have Blake get the supplies he needed since the man was on modified assignment. Eliot returned to the main room where Blake was rubbing his neck and gasping on the floor. Damien had narrow eyes which made everyone in the room nervous except for Eliot. 

“He is taken care of. Blake, when you are done floundering on the floor I need you to get clean up supplies. I’m sure you know the chemicals that I need,” Eliot said. Blake glared at him from the floor but nodded anyway, knowing that he wouldn’t win over the great Eliot Spencer. 

Damien beckoned Eliot back into his private room to talk. He was more than impressed that Eliot had not only killed the mark, but saved his life and neutralized the threat. Moreau had never seen anyone take such quick action before. Once again he found himself studying Eliot's every move as though he were in a daze. Most of his security men who packed as much muscle as Spencer were clumsy. Eliot was graceful and quiet in his movements as though he were executing a delicate and rhythmic dance. 

“Moreau, I’m sorry that things had to get so messy on my first night here. We will need to move you immediately in the morning. I do not think rushing off today would be wise since someone got into this suite. Because I used a silencer giving us a little more time but if someone got this close to killing you, it can easily happen again,” Eliot said. "Even if your business in Belgrade isn't finished, I suggest you move home." Damien sat down on his bed, staring at the spot where the contaminated decanter had been. He was suddenly very exhausted and wanted to fall back asleep.

"Of course. I will have my plane on stand by and ready to go by eight tomorrow morning. I have your first assignment for you before you join me at my villa in San Lorenzo," Damien said. "Stay behind and see if you can get any information on this situation. This was a sloppy attempt on my life even if it did almost work. I have a feeling that next time will be a little more calculated."

"Understood, sir. Should I report back to Blake on my findings?" Eliot questioned. He wasn't sure how the head of security would take becoming his handler but he was more excited to be getting a direct order from Moreau himself. He knew it was an honor most didn't live to see happen. Damien smirked.

"Report directly to me. My trust in my head of security has been temporarily shaken. I would feel better if we kept this just between the two of us," Damien replied. Eliot smiled and shook the man's outstretched hand.

"I will start after I sleep for a bit. You should rest too, I might add. I can't help but noticed how exhausted you look, sir," Eliot commented. Moreau nodded slowly before flopping down against the soft pillows.

"It's a damn good thing I'm used to people wanting me dead or I would always be too nervous to sleep," Damien mumbled, falling asleep without bothering to change into more comfortable clothes. Eliot watched him for a few moments before removing Damien's shoes and draping a soft blanket over him. In sleep, the man could not have looked more innocent and unassuming.


	2. Damien's House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes!!

Chapter Two: Damien's House  
   
Two weeks after meeting Damien Moreau in Serbia, Eliot arrived in San Lorenzo. He already knew from the climate that he would enjoy the constant warmth of the tropics. It reminded him of summers in Oklahoma, though the views of San Lorenzo were much more spectacular than flat farm land. Under confidential orders from Moreau, Eliot had been chasing down leads of whom the latest kill orders were coming from. Damien had insisted on keeping everything under wraps so as not to make Blake feel usurped. Unfortunately for Eliot, he had found no promising leads but was hoping that the closer he got to Damien, the more of a chance he would have at finding the culprit.   
   
Eliot followed the man only named Blake through the many halls of Damien Moreau's expansive villa. Since he had set foot in the home he had begun to draw a map in his head of the floor plan, thanking his years of training in the Army. If he was supposed to protect a man like Moreau, he wanted to be able to use the home advantage to the best of his abilities. He wasn't sure what to expect of the man since their encounter in Serbia. Eliot noted the dozens of paintings that lined the walls that made the villa look like it belonged in a Renaissance museum of Italy or France; everything was absolutely gorgeous. Eliot stopped gawking at his surroundings just in time to see Blake stop at large double wooden doors at the end of a wide hallway. Without being told, Eliot could say it was safe to assume that Moreau was waiting in the room beyond. However, Eliot was given a sharp glare as he gazed at the door wistfully.  
   
"This is Moreau's study. No one goes in and no one leaves without his permission. As his head of security, I am the only one permitted to enter without prior permission assuming of course I have legitimate business for him. When Moreau is not in house, the study is locked. Am I clear?" Blake snapped, clearly still irritated at how he had been treated in Belgrade. Eliot nodded once but chose to remain silent. He had more than a few things that he wanted to say to the man but it was his first official day on the job and he didn't want to be noticed for his smart mouth. Yet again, Eliot had the Army to thank for being able to hold his tongue.  His younger self would have lashed out no matter the consequences.  
   
Blake pushed open the doors and stood to the side, letting Eliot walk through first. Blake closed the doors behind them and moved to stand next to Moreau who was leaning up against his desk scrolling through his phone. Eliot moved to the center of his room and stood in a tense manner but not quite at attention. Damien looked up, a small and amused smirk turned up the corners of his mouth. He was hardly surprised that Eliot was still wearing his cowboy style but he couldn't wait to see how the man would look in an expensive Italian suit. Moreau moved away from his desk and stood in front of Eliot at a closer proximity than Eliot had been expecting.   
   
"You impressed me in Belgrade and you certainly passed the initial employment test. I am thankful that you managed to save my life," Damien said. "Please, join me for a drink. This time I assure the scotch has _not_ been tainted."   
   
Once again Moreau moved, this time over to the decanter of scotch and poured three glasses. As he was doing so, Eliot noticed the head of security glance down at his phone and take in a deep breath. The hair on the back of his neck stood up and he made a split second decision; one that would change the course of his employment drastically. Just seconds before Blake fired his gun, Eliot stepped between Moreau and the bullet. Pain tore through his shoulder but he surged forward nonetheless, disarmed the man and pinned him on the ground. Blake struggled for a few moments before it became clear that he was outmatched by both Eliot's strength and speed.   
   
Moreau was leaning up against the faux fire place, alarm reeling through his body. Even for a man used to people wanting to kill him, two attempts in two weeks was enough to shake him. A few days before Eliot had arrived at the villa he had become aware of two things: whispers of someone hiring out to kill him and someone leaking information about him from within his own security staff. The fact that Blake was both the leak and the subcontractor were baffling to him. He had trusted the man with his life on numerous occasions and  on each occasion the man had proved his loyalty. Moreau recovered quickly from his shock and walked over to Eliot just as he smashed Blake's face into the floor. He chuckled at the crunching noise that the man's nose made.  
   
"I suppose  that all men have their price. I honestly thought you would have a higher one but I can't pretend that I care about whatever your reasons were," Moreau snarled, crunching Blake's hand and fingers under his feet. "Spencer, please take care of this man. I will have some others remove and clean up. I can't have my carpet stained with the blood of a traitor." Eliot felt a rush of adrenaline spike in his body.   
   
He grabbed Blake's gun and jammed it into the back of the man's head. Suddenly he froze. He had killed plenty of people but never before had he been sitting on his target's back. Eliot was thankful that he could compartmentalize pain so well and just ignore the bullet wound in his shoulder or he would have had a lot more to push past. His hands were just starting to shake when he felt Moreau kneel down next to him. Gently the man carded his fingers through Eliot's hair, leaning in close and pressing his lips to the young man's ear.   
   
"This man tried to kill me twice in a matter of a few weeks after years of faithful service and no doubt would do the same to you. Just pull the trigger. Let go and save me again," Moreau whispered, his hot breath tickling Eliot's ear and neck.   
   
A pleasant shiver ran down Eliot's spine and a lustful heat pooled in his stomach. Before he even knew what was happening, there was a deafening bang and blood seeped out of Blake, his eyes going blank. Eliot slowly set the gun down and moved away, accidentally stumbling into Moreau. He mumbled an apology as he carefully stepped away from the blood not wanting to track it into the rest of the room or villa. Moreau steered him to the table with the scotch, handing him a glass. Eliot gratefully accepted and hoped that the liquor would help to calm his nerves.  
   
"Not used to killing so close?" Moreau asked. Eliot shook his head.  
   
"I've killed at close range but I've never executed someone at that close of a range before. My wet work was of the sniper variety," Eliot said. "Though I did take out a death squad in Uruguay with piano wire." Moreau raised an eye brow looking impressed.   
   
"I had heard you are quite the marksmen and very resourceful. Those are always an excellent traits to have. Tell me, how did you know so quickly. He was acting differently today but I've spent the better part of six years with him and I never guessed that he was about to kill me," Moreau said. "My private doctor is on the way to take care of your shoulder."  
   
"Just before he took the shot he was staring at his phone and taking deep breaths. I've seen a man work up the courage to kill someone they know well, Blake was acting the same as the man in my squad who was ordered to kill us. And thanks for the doctor," Eliot said, finishing off the scotch. "The scotch is nice but I really prefer beer to anything else." 

Moreau gave him a small smirk and nodded. He liked getting to know his men well. However, only his head of security got the chance to know him just as well. The man standing before him proved worthy of the job. On their first meeting, Eliot had already saved his life which was more than most would have done for him. And then on their second meeting, Eliot had saved him yet again.  
   
"How would you like Blake's job? You certainly have the skills for the job. You're much more intelligent than he let on in the past two weeks. I can only guess that would be because he didn't want you taking his job," Moreau replied. Eliot knew that it was being phrased as a question but the underlying tone made it clear that there wasn't a backup option.   
   
"I accept," was all Eliot said in response.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!

Chapter Three: Eliot's Rules 

Eliot had to remind himself not to tug at the ten thousand dollar suit Moreau had forced him to wear. The only nice thing about his new outfit was the approval noise his boss had made. It had been one of surprise and total happiness, which Eliot figured was rare from a man like Moreau. He didn’t figure that Moreau was a man to openly show affection towards another if he was truly serious about them. Eliot had also noticed that his boss had spent more on him than on the other members of the security team. Most of the men had leered at him figuring it meant he was sleeping with Moreau. However, one man had simply shown interest in what tailor had designed the suit.

"Something's on your mind, Spencer," Moreau said, not bothering to look up from the document he was reading over. Eliot noticed that the man didn't seem to be fond of using computers but was occasionally forced to rely on the technology. Moreau seemed fairly proficient in technology but he got frustrated easily and Eliot had managed to stop him from throwing the laptop across the room on multiple occasions. 

"Who was the man with the dirty blonde hair that we passed on our way in here? He asked who designed my suit," Eliot said. “And he seemed slightly ostracized from the others.” Moreau paused for a moment and frowned.

"Be more specific. I wasn't paying much attention to the men this morning. This deal I am putting together with the Iranians is taking up most of my thought space," Moreau replied. He turned to fully face Eliot and leaned back in his chair. It was all too clear from the smirk on his face that he was enjoying the view of Eliot in a suit. 

"From what I've seen his general demeanor says he is a complete asshole," Eliot supplied bluntly. Moreau snorted.

"James Chapman," he said immediately. "Hard to mistake that attitude of his. He is, however, one of my most efficient men. He has a knack for extracting information without leaving any witnesses. Chapman also, not unlike yourself, doesn't walk around with an agenda. He can seem passive aggressive but in reality he is just aggressively choosing his words carefully." Eliot nodded thoughtfully. 

"If I were to determine, after talking with him and perhaps sparring with him, that he would make a good second in command for myself, could I make a new position?" Eliot asked. Eliot had the full intention of doing so whether Moreau was okay with it or not but he didn't want to seem flat out rude. Moreau shrugged. 

"Do whatever you would like, they are your men," he said, waving a hand. Eliot looked shocked and Moreau couldn't help but laugh. He took Eliot's hand in his, giving it a light squeeze. "Don't look so surprised. You would have done so no matter what my answer was, no?" Eliot squeezed Moreau's hand a little tighter. It hadn't occurred to Eliot how much saving someone's life bonded people. 

"I have to admit that was my intention, sir," Eliot admitted weakly. Moreau winced at being addressed so formally. 

"Spencer, you saved my life from an enemy that perhaps I was subconsciously choosing not to see. That is something I can't truly thank you for. I think it would be just fine if you called me Damien," he said. "You sound stiff when you call me sir and quite frankly, it makes me feel old." 

"D-Damien," Eliot whispered, testing out how the name felt as it rolled off his tongue. A shiver ran down his spine and he decided instantly that he loved it. "But you have to promise me something." Damien raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh? And what is that?" He asked. 

"In front of the men please address me as Spencer and I will address you as Moreau. Between the two of us, it will always just be Eliot and Damien," Eliot said. Damien smiled and stood up. He dipped his head slightly and once again, Eliot found his boss's lips pressed to ear. He could barely suppress the shudder than nearly rolled over his limbs.

"It will be our little secret, Eliot," Damien whispered. "Have fun talking with Chapman. And if he accepts the job tell him to see Antonio. That is who made your suit." 

As Damien moved away and sat back down in his chair, Eliot felt light headed. He wasn't certain if he was reading the signs correctly but everything seemed to indicate a strong attraction from Damien, even if it was purely physical. He nodded slowly and, as gracefully as he could manage with knees made of butter, made his way out of the study. In the hall, Eliot exhaled slowly. He had never been so impacted by someone, a man no less, before. Part of Eliot had thought Damien was going to kiss him. It was the same part of him that had been disappointed when the man had not kissed him. 

Damien stared at the door that Eliot had just left through and groaned. He had never gotten involved with anyone on his security team before. There had been many whispers about him and Blake but they had all been rumors. Now, he was tempting fate by mercilessly flirting with Eliot. He couldn't place what made the man so attractive but it was more than just his looks. Brains were behind his beauty and it was all tied up in a bow with a southern accent that sent shivers dancing over his skin. Damien had always thought the rough southern twang was abrasive but when Eliot spoke, he wanted to let the man speak for hours just so he could listen. He groaned again and turned back to the document. He hoped that his new business venture would keep his mind off of Eliot long enough for him to figure out how to deal with his feelings.  
****  
James Chapman had always been one to prefer flying under the radar when it came to living in the villa. Any unwanted attention among the men could make life hell in the security living wing. He had seen harmless pranks turn to into full blown torture if anyone thought someone was moving up too fast in the ranks. There had been talk about starting a coup against Eliot Spencer but when everyone had seen the man fight four men at once and effortlessly take them down with a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder, the talk had turned to whispers. And when Eliot had shown up the next morning in a suit worth almost as much as the ones Damien wore himself, the whispers had been extinguished. No one wanted to answer directly to the man if Eliot was harmed within the villa. They had seen Damien's wrath in action and no one was a match for him. 

Chapman was minding his own business off to the side of the training center, sharpening his knife set, when Eliot walked in and sat down at the table with him. Chapman immediately dropped what he was doing and snapped to attention as best as he could while sitting down. Everyone in the center had stopped what they were doing mid action and the room became deathly silent. In that moment, Chapman saw his life flash before his eyes. 

"Chapman, I need to have a private word with you. Come with me," Eliot said, standing up and walking away without waiting for the other man to get his act together. 

In a hurry, Chapman put his things away and jogged after the new head of security. Out in the hall, Chapman continue to walk slightly behind Eliot until he was lead into Eliot's private room. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous, Blake had never scared him before. However unlike Blake, Eliot's bite seemed to be just as bad as his bark. 

"I'm sorry if asking about your suit was out of line, sir. I was just curious. It won't happen--" Chapman immediately stopped talking at the glare he was given. 

"What is the best method for execution of you have to leave a body where it is?" Eliot asked. Chapman was relieved. 

"Give someone a heart attack. An injection of potassium chloride is the best drug to get the job done cleanly," Chapman said easily. 

"And where do you give the injection to avoid detection from the medical examiner?" Eliot asked.

"Well there are nine spots you can use but the best is under the finger nail. The only time it is really checked is if the death is ruled a homicide," Chapman said with just as much ease. 

"Since you are so _efficient_ , as Moreau put it, at extracting information from people, what is the best torture method?" Eliot questioned. 

"It varies depending on the person. The best is to find someone they love. I always put them both in the same room. I strap the target to a chair and the loved one to a chair facing them. Then I torture the person they love," Chapman replied. Eliot raised an eye brow. 

"But wouldn't they say anything just to stop the torture?" Eliot asked, truly skeptical. 

"A person will say anything to stop torture being inflicted upon themselves. Often times they are not even afraid of death. But if you torture someone they love, they don't want to risk making the life or death decision for the other person. The best motivation is to torture their children," Chapman said. Eliot visibly winced and the other man looked down at the floor but did not apologize.

"Well you certainly passed that test with flying colors," Eliot said at long last. Chapman looked pleased with himself. "How are you skills at hand to hand combat?" 

"I will fail that test miserably. I know enough to defend myself if I get attacked but I certainly don't rely on it if I don't have to," Chapman said. Eliot thought for a few moments. 

"So in other words, you could get yourself and Moreau out of a situation using hand to hand if you had to," Eliot supplied. 

"Absolutely, I could probably even manage to injure a few guys. I could not, however, spar against you and have it be anything other than pathetic," Chapman admitted. Eliot laughed an clapped him on the back. 

"I appreciate your honesty. Can you tell me why the men say you are an asshole?" Eliot asked. Chapman was unsuccessful to hold back the rolling of his eyes. 

"I'm not an asshole," he grumbled. "I just behave like one most of the time because then people leave me alone. These guys aren't exactly the kind of people I want to go have beers with after work. They were all Blake's men and I never was. I didn't get along with the guy so I was iced out on orders from Blake, that arrogant son of a bitch." Eliot narrowed his eyes. 

"Am I going to have a problem with these men?" Eliot questioned. 

"Not around the villa because you are clearly favored by Moreau for saving his life. That suit speaks volumes to what he thinks of you. Out in the field, you might have a little accident and they will blame it on a job gone wrong," Chapman said. "It's why I try to stay out of sight. I don't want to have an accident, if you know what I mean." 

"How would you like a promotion?" Eliot questioned, rapidly changing the subject. Caught totally of guard, Chapman hesitated. 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. They will kill me. Literally, kill me in my sleep," Chapman whispered, actually looking scared. 

"Come with me then. And act like you're in trouble," Eliot said. 

Forcefully, Eliot grabbed him by his upper arm and dragged him out of the room. After leaving the sleeping quarters, the corridor was filled with the twenty men that made up the security team. Most of them were snickering and pointing at Chapman who looked genuinely terrified. 

"Where are you taking me?" He whimpered, tugging his arm slightly. Chapman could swear that he was going to have a bruise the next morning. 

"You're going to see Moreau," Eliot growled.

Without thinking, Chapman squeaked. Not once had he ever been called to see Damien. In fact, he had worked for the man a year and the only time he had been directly addressed by him was when Blake hired him. While Eliot had just told him to act like he was in trouble, he was actually scared now. He tried to control his breathing as Eliot led him towards the study but panic was welling up in his chest. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to fight Eliot tooth and nail to get out of the situation. After what seemed like hours of walking Eliot opened the study doors and pushed Chapman inside. When the two entered Damien looked up from his computer, shutting it quickly when Eliot pushed Chapman closer to the desk.

"Chapman I just said to act scared. You don't have to fight me," Eliot grunted as he forced Chapman into a chair. 

"But I'm actually scared right now," Chapman whispered, leaning away from Damien. The man behind the desk looked confused.

"What on earth did you do to Chapman, Spencer? I thought you said you were just going to talk to him," Damien said. "Did you beat him on the way here?" 

"No I didn't beat him. I was trying to protect him. Apparently the men that work here have a habit of making accidents happen to anyone who wasn't a friend to Blake," Eliot said. "I figured if they thought he was coming to see you to be executed, nothing would happen to him today." Chapman looked over at Eliot who had taken the other seat in front of the desk.

"Wait, you didn't bring me here to kill me?" Chapman asked. Eliot gave him a bewildered look. 

"Of course not," Eliot said in an exasperated tone. "What gave you an idea like that?" Chapman let out a sigh of relief and sagged against the back of his chair.

"Because I declined the promotion and then you said we were going to see Moreau. That is like an equation for death," Chapman said.

"Chapman, who gave you that idea? If you don't want the position Eliot is offering you then you are entirely welcome to remain where you are," Damien said. "But I do want to know why Spencer felt the need to protect you from the other men." Chapman gulped nervously. 

"They all kind of hate me and Eliot because we weren't part of Blake's group. I think they are planning to kill us on the next job if you aren't there. None of them are very smart and they don't whisper nearly as well as they would like to think they do," Chapman said. When the words left his mouth it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his chest. 

"So they are all liabilities. What do you think I should do about it, Chapman?" Damien asked. He knew he could trust Eliot's judgement but if his head of security wanted Chapman as his second in command, Damien wanted him to be able to make important split second decisions. 

"Terminate them all immediately. If Spencer and I can't trust them then you can't either," Chapman said. Damien nodded. 

"Good. You and Spencer will clean house. Chapman, please wait in the next room but don't touch anything and certainly do _not_ go through anything," Damien said, pointing a door at the far end of the large study. Chapman nodded and headed to the end of the room and quickly entered before shutting the door. He turned around to relax against the door but a whole new set of tensions shot through his body when he realized he was standing in Damien's private suite. He crossed his arms against his chest and waited patiently. 

Eliot got out of his chair and placed Damien's laptop to the side of the large desk, moving to sit on the other side with his feet on either arm of Damien's chair. The man slowly ran his hands up Eliot's legs until they rested on his upper thighs. Damien leaned his chin on Eliot's knee, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. Eliot frowned. 

"What's wrong, Damien?" Eliot asked.

"Just feeling like an idiot for overlooking this for so long. The other deaths were suspicious but I never thought Blake was running some sort of in house sport. I usually pride myself on intelligence," Damien returned. 

"Blake would have hid everything from you. He actually knew you and what you would look for. I'm glad I got to personally put an end to that," Eliot said. He put his hands over Damien's but resisted the tempting urge to go through with a kiss. Damien sat back but kept his hands where they were. 

"And here you are, about to save me again. You and Chapman will both hire the new team together. Be discreet and keep my name out of things. Every person you hire stays in the security wing and training area for a month and no one other than the two of you comes near this wing. After the month probationary period you chose who stays and who goes. If I am kept out of things you won't have to kill of anyone you hire since no one knows that this villa is mine. There will be twenty spots open," Damien said. 

A knocking on the door signaled that the execution was about to take place. Eliot moved away from Damien reluctantly and went to stand by the door Chapman was behind. He watched Damien's every move as the men walked into the room. No one was going to make another attempt on the man's life while he was breathing.


	4. Changing Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait between updates!!

Chapter Four: Changing Feelings

Eliot and Chapman stood in Damien's study waiting for their orders. All they had gathered so far was that the job was somewhere in Croatia. Someone had decided to ask for a lower price for the artifacts that he was providing for them. In Damien's book it was unacceptable to try and negotiate. 

After sending his last email to a friend in the Ukraine, Damien looked up at his two new heads of security. So far he had been impressed by their work and compatibility.

"I am sending the two of you to Sibenik to deliver a message. The meeting is set to happen at the man's house. I want you to give him the artifacts and then take the lowered price. Then, shoot him in the head and take the artifacts back. After that's done, kill his family. I want the world to know what happens when you try to negotiate with Damien Moreau," Damien said calmly. "Before you leave, I want to make sure that you have finished hiring the basic security staff. I refuse to be left here unprotected."

Chapman looked vaguely amused by the prospect but Eliot looked shocked. However, arguing with Damien never got anyone anywhere, even if they were favored as much as Eliot was, so he kept his mouth shut. He and Chapman took the file, leaving the room to return to the study the security used and had nicknamed: "The War Room." They laid out all the plans on the table side by side in an organized fashion. One pile were blue prints, another pile were pictures of the family and the final stack were of the artifacts Damien had acquired for the target through their smuggler friend John Douglas Keller.

"Bit stupid isn't it?" Chapman asked. Eliot raised an eye brow.

"What? You?" Eliot snapped in return. Chapman rolled his eyes.

"Prick, I was talking about the mark. He should know better than to try and negotiate with Moreau," Chapman replied. Eliot shrugged.

"Guess you are…right," he said through clenched teeth. Eliot closed his eyes as he waited for Chapman to make jokes about Eliot being in agreement with him for the first time since they started working together. After standing in silence with his eyes closed, Eliot frowned. When he opened his eyes, he found himself looking at Chapman who was sitting on the table.

"You were waiting for me to say something snarky, weren't you?" Chapman questioned, tilting his head to the side. Eliot couldn't help but shiver as Chapmans tone changed to one of seduction.

"I can't think of an instance other than this one when you've held back your jokes and snide remarks," Eliot said. "Why start now?"

Chapman slid off the table gracefully. He sauntered over to Eliot until they stood nose to nose. Sexual energy poured off him in waves and Eliot could feel his head starting to spin. They were standing so close that their breath mingled ever so slightly. Eliot's thoughts were on how soft Chapman's lips were but just as Eliot thought his number two was going to kiss him, Chapman pulled away.

"That was more cruel than a snarky comment would have been," Eliot whispered, his voice rough with desire. Chapman shook his head in response.

"Believe me when I say that I want to kiss you more than anything in the world. But I see the way Moreau looks at you. He craves your touch and your affection as much, if not more, than I do. And we both know that Moreau always gets what he wants," he said, sadness laced into every word.

"I am the one who decides who gets my touch and affection," Eliot growled.

With little warning, Eliot grabbed Chapman's tie and pulled him back in close. He wrapped his arms tightly around Chapman's waist, which forced Chapman to wrap his arms around Eliot's neck. This time, it was Chapman who was quickly reduced to a dizzy, shivering, and lustful mess. Eliot smiled slowly and leaned in just a little bit closer.

"This time you're going to kiss me like your life depends on it," Eliot growled. "You're going to kiss me and make me believe that I am the most important thing in your life." Chapman's knees weakened at the absolute command and he realized that Eliot was holding him up, supporting the entirety of his weight. This was a moment that Chapman had dreamed of since he had first heard the name: Eliot Spencer.

Chapman closed the gap between them. At first the kiss was shy and tentative but soon it grew with a fiery passion. Chapman nipped at Eliot's lower lip and was immediately granted access. Their tongues danced together lazily before Chapman deepened the kiss. He wove his fingers into Eliot's hair pulling ever so slightly, earning a moan. The two continued to grab at each other, trying to get as close as to one another as they let all their passions out in that moment. Gasping for breath, they pulled apart. Both men had dazed looks on their faces.

"Am I really as important as that kiss seemed to indicate?" Eliot asked. Chapman didn't let go of Eliot. Instead he leaned his head against the other man's shoulder. Gently, he kissed Eliot's neck and closed his eyes.

"You're amazing, Eliot Spencer," he whispered, dropping his tough façade that pushed everyone away and kept any potential friends or lovers out. Eliot pulled away from the hug a little and so did Chapman.

"We should probably get started on those security plans," Eliot said. As they turned back to the table Eliot kept his hand on Chapman's lower back. Absently, he traced little circles on Chapman's spine.

The longer they spent looking over the plans, the more Eliot thought about what Chapman had said. Eliot knew he was Damien's favorite on the security team but he had never noticed the special looks that Chapman was talking about other than when they were alone. Could Damien really be openly lusting after him? Eliot felt torn by the whole situation. He spent a lot of time with both men but his dedication and passion would always be to Damien Moreau. He let out a sigh that was louder than he had meant. It was just loud enough to attract Chapman's attention and the other man knew what it meant.

"You are thinking about Moreau," Chapman said, moving away from Eliot but not in an angry gesture. Eliot squeezed his eyes shut.

"Chapman, I am fond of you but as Moreau's head of security I live my entire life for him. It isn't fair and I can't do that to you. I couldn't live with myself if something happened and you ended up hating me," Eliot said. A tear slid down Chapman's cheek and suddenly he pulled Eliot close, letting out a shaky sigh.

"Can we pretend you didn't say that until we get back from Sibenik?" Chapman asked, pulling back and giving Eliot a watery smile. Eliot chuckled and wiped away the other man's tears. He kissed him softly.

"I don't see why not," Eliot whispered.

The two men turned to the plans over the table. Eliot frowned at the family picture. Damien's target had a large family: a wife, two teenage daughters, three boys between the ages of six and twelve and one infant daughter. Eliot swallowed hard. The body language was a clear indication that they were a very close family. To extinguish them all over price negotiation seemed unusually cruel, even for Damien.

While Eliot was looking over the details of the family, Chapman was looking over the artifact list and the price list. He too, was confused by their latest assignment. When Damien had first given the orders, it seemed like a simply open and shut repo job. Now, it seemed to be a lot more personal. Half the items on the list weren't even worth the dust and sand they were found in. Chapman looked up at Eliot.

"Eliot, these artifacts are all forgeries," he said, which earned him a curious glance.

"How can you be so sure? You're just looking at photographs," Eliot said.

"I know because before I started working security I _was_ a forger and a damn good one if I do say so myself," Chapman replied, looking rather smug. "What is the target's name? Or did Moreau leave that out?" Eliot dug through a few papers before his eyes came to rest on the name that was written in Damien's beautiful calligraphy.

"His name is Alexander Dean Keller," Eliot said. And then the realization smashed him in the face like a brick wall. "This isn't about someone trying to renegotiate a price. This is Moreau teaching Keller never to try and pass off a forgery to keep the true profits."

Chapman and Eliot exchanged glances that were a mixture of anger and confusion. They had been working with Damien long enough to have earned his trust and yet he insisted on making everything a puzzle or a mind game. Eliot rubbed his hands over his face as he tried to convince himself not to act rashly. He and Chapman still had to hire a few more men for the new security team. There was no time to linger on their hurt feelings. And yet it was becoming an increasingly potent tension in the room, both men could feel it building.

"Until we have men hired for the security team, keep your mouth shut. Moreau expects us to figure this out sooner or later," Eliot said. "For now, we will just move it until later. Having security up and running fully for a month before we leave has to be our top priority."

"I really don't see the point in waiting to bring it up. He can't just send us to Croatia without a full security team," Chapman grumbled.

"That doesn't matter. Everything needs to appear calm. When he gets stressed or God forbid pissed, the world pays dearly," Eliot pointed out. Chapman nodded slowly, knowing that Eliot was right as usual.  
*  
Finishing the hiring process took two weeks and as far as Damien was concerned, it was two weeks of living hell. Throughout the entire process, Chapman and Eliot had bickered like small children. It had been maddening for Damien who felt like a parent policing siblings. Eliot was of the opinion that people they hired needed to have deductive reasoning skills and were also able to make logical decisions under stress while remaining loyal. Chapman on the other had believed that as long as the man could extinguish people properly without leading back to them, they were a good fit. Nineteen of the twenty spots had been filled and the security wing was buzzing with excitement and anticipation.

Eliot opened the last file and looked it over carefully. The man was nearly as good as him on paper. The hard part was making sure the man couldn't easily over power him. Eliot handed the file to Chapman who narrowed his eyes. He looked up at Eliot, an annoyed expression plaster over his face, before tossing the file back to his boss.

"I am _not_ working with him!" Chapman exclaimed. "I swear you are just trying to make my life a living hell." Eliot rolled his eyes at the dramatics. He was used to them but he still hadn't mastered the art of not rolling his eyes at his counterpart.

"Quinn is one of the best out there. Having strong members on the security team is a good thing. You can't make this about you, James. This is about what is best for Moreau," Eliot returned, his tone even and calm. Chapman clenched his jaw.

"Fine, I will admit that he would be perfect for the last spot. He does have a month before we decided if he can stay," Chapman said.

"Glad you agree, since I already contacted him to be here today," Eliot said, smirking when Chapman squawked in annoyance. It was too easy to bait the man into a reaction. It was so easy, in fact, that Eliot often found himself trying to get a rise out of Chapman whenever he was bored. It was like an older brother harassing his younger brother.

Unbeknownst to both men Damien was standing behind them looking down at the file. He tilted his head to the side when he saw the man's hand to hand combat skills. Damien leaned on the back of the couch with his elbows and made an approving noise. Eliot didn't flinch at all but Chapman's reaction was just enough that he was glared at.

"Chapman, if you are not paying attention at all times someone could easily come up behind you and kill you," Damien snapped. He smacked Chapman on the back of his head with an open palm. "Are you thinking of hiring Mr. Quinn, Spencer? He may be in the villa but the only time you stare that long at someone's file is when you want them to be part of your team." Eliot shrugged.

"I want to fight him first. I want to test his loyalty above all else. Chapman observes ten and I observe ten. Then we switch the groups so we have overlap in our opinions. I just need to keep a close eye on Quinn. He could be dangerous," Eliot said, not looking up from his papers. Damien hummed and moved away from the couch, sitting down across from Eliot and Chapman.

"So it goes," Damien whispered. He was absolutely dreading the upcoming weeks. While his private wing of the villa was very large, he was used to having free range of his entire home.


	5. Home Advantage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait and for any mistakes I may have missed! Enjoy!!

Chapter Five: Home Advantage

Quinn walked into the villa and was immediately led to the large room he would occupy for at least a month. He had been surprised when he had gotten a call from a contact saying Eliot Spencer wanted him in San Lorenzo. He wasn't exactly sure what was there but he was more than excited to find out. He hoped that he would have the chance to spar with Eliot. The man was an absolute legend in the hitter community. Quinn set his bag down at the end of the bed. He hadn't gotten a chance to meet Eliot yet but he was certainly looking forward to it.

Quinn couldn’t help but admire his room. It was as beautiful as it was ornate. Quinn had never had such a nice room, and in fact, it had been several months since Quinn had even had a proper bed. He flopped down on the soft mattress and let out a quiet groan of happiness. The softness of a mattress had never felt so good in his life. As he was relaxing on the bed he heard someone knocking on the large bedroom door. Quinn got off the bed slowly and opened it. In the split second after he opened the door, Quinn found himself thinking that even though he was slightly taller than Eliot it didn't make the man any less intimidating.

"May I come in?" Eliot asked. Quickly, Quinn moved to the side and then shut the door behind the head of security. "Did your travels here go smoothly?"

"Yes, nothing happened. I would have been here sooner but I took several different flights and modes of transportation. I didn't want anyone to have a chance of following me," Quinn said, his heart swelling with pride when the older man gave a nod of approval.

"The rules here are very simple. You stay in this wing of the house and do not wander under any circumstance. I am the head of security as you already know and my second in command is named James Chapman. I am briefing you today because for the first two weeks I will be observing your training. The second half of your training will be overseen by Chapman. A word to the wise, don't piss either of us off and don't test our patience. It is a virtue that neither of us have," Eliot said. "Any questions or concerns?"

"How do we get a hold of you if something happens? Like we hear of a threat coming towards the villa," Quinn said. Eliot, once again, nodded in approval.

"In an hour everyone will be gathering in our training center which you passed on the way to the sleeping quarters. You will be given a burner phone with only two numbers in it: mine and Chapman's. That phone is used only to contact us, do not make any outside calls for any reason," Eliot replied. Quinn nodded.

"Does the security wing of the home have a kitchen where we can cook food or do we leave for our meals?" Quinn asked. Food was always a very serious subject with Quinn. Eliot raised a curious eye brow at him.

"There is a kitchen and a fully stocked fridge. There is a chef who will prepare meals in the evening for dinner. Lunch and breakfast are on your own so feel free to cook. The only days of the week you are permitted to go into town are Friday and Saturday. I ask that if you chose to go to a club, refrain from bringing any guests back. It is a security risk that I won't allow," Eliot said. Quinn looked thoughtful for a moment but came up blank on any further questions.

"I suppose most of the rules will be explained in the training center," Quinn said.

"Yes, that way everyone is on the same page and can't go around saying that they never heard of a rule they may not agree with. We want to eliminate as much risk as possible," Eliot said. "If you have no other questions I will see you in an hour. Tardiness is not tolerated, Mr. Quinn so bare that in mind. Change into workout clothing, there will be sparring sessions for my half of the group following the initial orientation."

When Eliot was out of the room, Quinn heaved a sigh. While he wasn't sure whom he was protecting, he knew this was a job he desperately wanted. It was a chance to get a real start in the world since the job market could be thin on either side of the law. Plus having a constant place to live was something he rarely passed up.

Quinn began to unpack his bag and couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed that his clothing didn't fill up much of the closet or drawers. Having more clothes than could fit in a go bag had never been an option for Quinn. He needed everything in his life to be light and portable. Now, however, he was wishing that he had taken the time to settle down properly in at least one country. Quinn changed quickly and then left his room, locking it behind him with a key the maid had provided when he had first arrived. He made his way down to the training center and was surprised to find that he was the first to arrive. He shrugged it off and glanced around the room. 

The training center was an impossibly large room that greatly resembled a Japanese dojo that had two levels of balconies looking down on the open arena. One half of the room was a sparring range while the other half was a weapons training area. Between the two ranges, in the dead center of the room, was a raised platform that was clearly used for sparring challenges. Quinn smiled and hoped that he would improve his skills enough to be selected in a challenge. Quinn circled the platform and then settled himself against a wall in the far corner of the sparring range. From the angle he had chosen, he could see the entire room and door while protecting himself from any sneak attacks. He wasn't worried about someone trying to kill him so early on but he was cautious of his fellow men. They were, no doubt, some of the most ruthless men in the world. Quinn stretched a little before sitting down to meditate. He needed to do something to relax before the actual training started. After meeting Eliot, he was sure that Chapman would have the same unsmiling demeanor.

Eliot and Chapman walked into the training center and looked around at the growing crowd. Everyone looked eager to get started but both heads of security were weary of their situation. Having so many new faces in the villa was a threat to Damien even if it was a contained threat. The two men had come to be fiercely loyal to each other and their boss so adding in unknown variables was giving both men unparalleled anxiety. Chapman pulled Eliot over to the side when he saw that the man was constantly clenching and un-clenching his fists.

"Are you okay? I haven't seen you this tense in a while," Chapman said. "Is there something going on that I need to know about?" Eliot shook his head.

"Just tense about having these men in the house. Maybe we should have done the training off site," Eliot said, deflecting. Chapman saw through the effort but knew better than to keep pushing.

"Little late for that now, but if either of us think something suspicious is going on we can discuss an exit strategy," Chapman replied. When he saw Eliot shift uncomfortably he narrowed his eyes. "I suggest you loop me in. I don't appreciate being left to fly blind." His counterpart made a frustrated sound.

"He is watching from the second floor. Apparently he doesn't listen to me," Eliot growled. Chapman glanced up out of the corner of his eyes.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed softly. "He doesn't listen to me either because I made it clear that it would be best for everyone if he just stayed put in his study."

It wouldn't be obvious to any of the new trainees that they were being watched from above, but to Eliot and Chapman their boss stuck out like a sore thumb. He was relentless about feeling cooped up in the private wing when it had enough room to comfortably house most of the small country's army. 

Damien watched everyone carefully, hoping that he would sense any danger by observing from afar. He wasn't going to put his personal safety at risk again. Trusting Eliot and Chapman wasn't the issue, the real issue for him was not being able to see behavior up close and personal. Damien pulled his phone from his pocket and moved back against the wall when he counted all twenty men down in the arena.

"Eliot, were you able to have a private word with Mr. Quinn?" Damien asked.

_"Of course I was, but unlike you he listened to me. I get the fact that you want to make sure we stop any threat before it starts but you could have waited until tomorrow. That would have given us a full training period to see who might be a loose cannon. Though I would more expect that from Chapman's group,"_ Eliot said.

From the other end of the line, Damien heard Chapman make an angry noise. He was out of eyesight at the moment but he could only imagine the face Chapman was making. He heard the two exchange a few tense words before he spoke again.

"What better time to observe than the first meeting. I want to see for myself where the threat is. There is someone here that you shouldn't trust and he is going to be one of Chapman's picks. He has worked for me longer so word of him recruiting for security has no doubt reached the ears of my enemies," Damien said. "When you flush the rat out, shoot him. Make an example that no one crosses you." He could hear Eliot groan and exchange another few words with Chapman.

_"We will be on the lookout. I guess since you've decided to watch you can make yourself useful. Come to the edge and point out three people it could be." ___

__Damien rolled his eyes at how Eliot so easily told him what to do but moved to the balcony edge, still in the shadows of the overhang. He made sure to stay out of the sun rays that were glaring through the glass roof that loomed over the training center. He saw that Eliot and Chapman were standing on the raised sparring ring but the trainees were still milling around, becoming familiar with their surroundings. He looked for the three most likely candidates but stopped looking quickly and retreated back against the wall._ _

__"I would say your best bet is on the man who isn't with you anymore. A few moments ago you had twenty men. Now you only have nineteen. Give an assignment to keep everyone busy and then find him," Damien snapped, ending the call._ _

__He clenched his jaw and sucked in a deep breath. He wanted to punch the wall behind him but breaking his hand would only create more problems. Damien skirted along the wall before he made his way down the spiral stairs. He was hoping that if he used the hidden halls and stairs that he had designed into the villa, he would be able to get back his private wing which he had had the good sense to lock before leaving._ _

__Eliot and Chapman each did a quick head count, but both men ended up with the unlucky number nineteen. Eliot ordered everyone to practice sparring one on one on the platform. After the first two were chosen to spar, Eliot and Chapman calmly left the room but one the doors closed behind them, panic set in._ _

__"Do you think Moreau got back to his wing or is he still here?" Chapman whispered._ _

__Eliot shook his head and leaned up against the wall. He bent down, putting his hands on his knees. He felt like he had run several miles and was nearly out of breath. Eliot slid down to the floor and tried to slow his air intake by taking deep breaths. However, he was unable to get any air in and started gasping. His eyes were watering and stars were starting to block out his vision. Chapman grabbed Eliot by the upper arm and pulled his to his feet. He forced Eliot to turn his back to him and made him cross his arms in a X over his chest. Chapman wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. The extra pressure on Eliot's chest forced him to stop hyperventilating and when Eliot was breathing normally again, Chapman let go of him._ _

__"What happened?" Eliot wheezed. Chapman gave him a strange look._ _

__"You had a panic attack, Eliot," Chapman replied. He took Eliot's hand and gave it a slight squeeze. "Do you have feelings for Moreau? More than you let on a few weeks ago?"_ _

__"No. Why would you think that? I just care about his safety, don't you?" Eliot asked, narrowing his eyes. "I'm under a lot of stress right now which explains the panic attack. Why haven't you had one?" Chapman couldn't help but chuckle a little._ _

__"I haven't had one because while I'm worried about our boss I'm not worried to the point of pure terror," Chapman said quietly, though there was a hint of upset in his tone. He had always hoped to bond closer with Eliot. "Plus you're being really defensive about the whole thing. There is nothing wrong with liking him. He is pretty charming when I think about it. Anyway, let's find him before we have a situation on our hands. I will look for the trainee and you go after Moreau."_ _

__Eliot nodded before he took off jogging in the opposite direction. He thought about what Chapman had said and felt his stomach fill with butterflies. The very mention of Damien's name was enough to reduce him to a quivering mess. He had never been more embarrassed in his life, he was actually falling for Damien faster than he had thought. As Eliot wound his way down the hidden corridors that led to the basement, which greatly resembled the catacombs of Paris, he found himself praying which he hadn't done in a long time. Eliot was starting to get worried when he heard a clicking noise and Damien's vault opened slowly. Eliot breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Damien look out and he ran to his boss, pushing him back inside. Eliot closed the vault door, thanking his lucky stars that only he and Damien had the ability to get past the key code and biometric lock system._ _

__"Did you come here to say I told you so?" Damien asked, sarcasm lacing every bit of his tone._ _

__Eliot stared at the man for a few beats before he closed the distance between them and kissed him as hard as he could. Damien's knees buckled and they toppled to the ground. Eliot crawled up Damien's body and locked their lips together again. He thought his boss would most likely push him away but instead, Damien wrapped his arms around Eliot's neck kissing him fiercely. When Eliot pulled away, he gazed down at Damien with only pure and unconditional love in his eyes._ _

__"Don't ever do that again!" Eliot said forcefully. "Don't scare me like that. I thought I was going to find you lying dead or dying down here."_ _

__Damien swallowed hard and kissed Eliot softly and almost hesitantly. He still wasn't entirely sure he should be expressing such feelings for his head of security. It could complicate things in the future if a job went south for some reason. One or both of them could end up seriously hurt or dead. They both sat up slowly and moved to lean against the edge of the vault. Eliot could see and feel the tension running through Damien's body so he moved away slightly. He pulled out his phone and started texting Chapman. He wasn't going to let Damien leave the vault until he was given the all clear. He was still fairly mad at the fact that Damien had lied about the reason for going to Croatia but with a killer on the lose it wasn't the right time to bring it up._ _


	6. Drunken Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes that I may have missed. Enjoy!! If you have any suggestions for what you would like to see in future chapters just comment and let me know!

Chapter Six: Drunken Confessions

The month of training flew by quickly without much trouble. A few men were let go because they weren't able to keep up with the rigorous schedule, but most passed with flying colors. However, much to Eliot's surprise and happiness, the young Mr. Quinn was at the top of the training class. He was remarkably quick to pick up new skills and was eager to learn from both Eliot and Chapman. Quinn also showed no sign of wanting to challenge his position on the team. Quinn seemed content to simply learn. He was skilled but knew his place and knew where the line was. 

When the new security team was in their final placement there were fifteen men total which seemed to be a comfortable number. Damien had them all fitted with beautiful suits before he finally introduced himself. Many of the men were terrified out of their minds but no one made a move to leave. They all stayed put and quickly found out that the rewards for loyalty were worth their initial fear. The security team worked in shifts to patrol the grounds and the villa making it easier for Eliot and Chapman to finally work on their trip to Croatia. 

The day had finally arrived and the two heads of security could no longer put off their confrontation with their boss. Chapman forced Eliot to go alone since he was the favorite. There was no sense in pushing their luck. While Chapman was off the hook and simply packing for the trip, Eliot had to figure out how to bring up the awkward topic of Damien's seeming lack of faith in him. He also couldn't help but wonder how awkward other things would be. Since their kiss in the vault, Damien had pulled away from him quite a bit. They were still extremely close but Eliot could sense the hesitation in Damien anytime they got within close proximity to each other with no one else around.

Eliot paced outside Damien's study trying to figure out what he was going to say to his boss. At that moment, Eliot wasn't even sure that Damien had planned on telling them what he was doing. To anyone on the outside, it would look like any other buy gone wrong. As he was trying to figure out what he was going to say and how he was going to phrase it, Damien opened his study doors.

"If you're are so concerned about what you are going to say to me, maybe you should keep it to yourself," Moreau said. Eliot groaned, though he wasn't exactly surprised Moreau had known he was outside the door. Knowing that Moreau would forgive him eventually, Eliot pushed himself and his boss back into the private office. Damien looked more surprised than upset at the show of force. When the door was closed behind them, Eliot rounded on Moreau, all thoughts of worry erased from his mind. It was replaced by a blinding rage. Eliot had given everything to Damien and now it seemed that he was just being used as a pawn.

"When were you going to give me the little detail about Keller screwing up? Or were you just going to let me be blind sided when I got to Croatia?" Eliot snapped.

"I knew Chapman, the clever little forger that he is, would figure out something was wrong with the artifacts. And I knew that you would put things together as soon as you saw the man's name. If you didn't come to my office asking for an explanation I would have told you before you left," Moreau said. "I really don't see what the big deal is, Eliot." Eliot clenched his jaw and took in several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. It wouldn't do him any good to expose. Unlike other people Damien would most likely retaliate which could lead to one of them killing the other.

"I am more upset that you continue to play your little games with me. You know I would give my life for you, so why do you insist on treating me like any other man on your security team?" Eliot asked. "Why don't you trust me? I've taken several bullets for you already and I haven't worked for you that long."

"Eliot, I do--" Moreau started before his head of security cut him off.

"Then start acting like it, Damien. Words mean nothing at this point. I need you to show me what I mean to you and how much you trust me," Eliot said, looking truly hurt as he walked out of the study.

Moreau flinched as the door slammed shut. He squeezed his eyes shut before throwing himself down on the leather couch that sat in front of the marble decorative fireplace. He gazed up at the ceiling, angry with himself. He had known that Eliot would be upset but it hadn't occurred to him that Eliot felt so strongly about the matter. Moreau felt his eyes start burning with tears which caused him to jolt upright and pour himself a glass of whiskey which he downed in a matter of seconds before pouring himself another glass, this time of scotch which he decided to savor. Damien did _not_ do feelings. Moreau hadn't expect to feel the ache in his heart when Eliot pointed out his fatal flaw. He never knew who he could trust so he resorted to trusting absolutely no one anymore than he had to. 

While Moreau trusted Eliot and never questioned anything he did, he had no idea how to show the man that the trust and faith were there. Glancing at his watch, he saw that Eliot and Chapman were schedule to leave in just under twelve hours. Moreau filled his glass nearly to the top with liquor and decided to get drunk rather than attempt an apology.  
*  
Eliot stood in front of his already full suit case. He couldn't decide if he should swap out one of his suits for a casual outfit or stay completely formal. It wasn't like Moreau would be there to complain about his appearance. As Eliot was rummaging through the dresser, Chapman burst through the door with a slightly panicked as well as confused look on his face.

"Knock much?" Eliot asked before he noticed that Chapman was breathing heavily. "Where did you run here from?"

"Moreau's study. It's bad," Chapman gasped.

"What's wrong?" Eliot asked, already moving towards the door. Chapman quickly followed him as they raced through the security wing to the other side of the villa.

"Short version: he got totally sloshed and now, believe it or not, he is crying mess on the floor begging for you not to leave him." Eliot groaned.

"What the hell? It must have taken a lot of alcohol to put him that kind of state," Eliot grumbled. Upon arriving at the study door, which Chapman had had the good sense to close, Eliot waved him off. "This is something I need to do alone. Make sure the men know never to speak of this incident ever. Normally I would say don't even fill them in, but it is better they hear first hand what happened, minus major details, rather than a rumor going around." Eliot sucked in a deep breath. When he got in the study, the scene was much different than he had expected. Chapman had, in no way, been exaggerating about Moreau's condition.

Damien's jacket was on the back of his couch, his light blue silk tie was draped over the end table and Eliot had no idea where the man's shoes were. Eliot had never seen Damien so disheveled. He knelt down on the floor and pulled Damien up into a sitting position. His cheeks were stained with tears and Eliot could smell the scotch so strongly that he was almost positive Damien had bathed in the stuff. At the sight of Eliot, a fresh wave of tears washed over Damien, causing the man to grab onto the front of Eliot's suit and pull him close. Eliot had never expected to see Damien having such a meltdown. The sight of such a powerful man coming unglued was utterly heartbreaking.

"What's wrong, Damien? I need you to talk to me or I can't help you," Eliot whispered, kneeling in front of his boss and pulling away slightly.

"I don't want you to leave me," Damien sobbed.

"I'm not leaving you. Chapman and I are just about to head to that job in Croatia. We will be back in a few days," Eliot said. Damien put his face in his hands.

"Don't go. I never wanted you to go. Chapman can take one of the other men," Damien said. He looked at Eliot with sad blue eyes. He reached his hand out and Eliot took it. "El, what I really want is for you to stay here with me. It is my way of trusting whomever you want to tag along." Eliot was completely baffled by the way Moreau was acting. He hadn't thought Damien had such a soft side even when he was drunk.

"Why are you doing this? Why on earth did you decide to get so drunk?" Eliot questioned. "You could have saved yourself what is going to be a massive hangover and just told me earlier. You don't have to always be so cold, especially around me."

"Because I'm a bastard and can only express my feelings drunk," Damien mumbled, a tinge of pink rising in his tan cheeks.

"And what are your feelings?" Eliot cooed, leaning forward and carding his fingers through Damien's hair. Softly, Eliot kissed him on the mouth, trying to encourage Damien to be totally honest about his feelings. Eliot needed to know why there had been so much hesitation that had resulted in tears later when it had all been too much to keep in.

"I trust you with my life. I am so sorry I didn't just tell you what was planned," Damien whispered. "Will you please stay here in San Lorenzo with me?" Eliot sucked in a deep breath. Before he totally broke Chapman's heart Eliot wanted to know just what Damien felt for him.

"And what are your feelings for me?" he asked. For a few moments, Damien's drunk mind seemed to have trouble processing the question. However, it soon dawned on him.

"Eliot Spencer," he whispered. "I think I love you. But if you ever ask me when I'm sober I will deny ever having said it." Eliot chuckled, giving Damien another soft kiss, their lips lingering together a little longer this time.

"Let me go talk to Chapman and see who he wants to take to Croatia," Eliot said, standing up. "Will you be okay for about ten or fifteen minutes? Or will you have a melt down again?" Damien rolled his eyes and unsteadily got to his feet with some help from Eliot.

"Shut up, Spencer," Damien slurred. He grabbed his jacket and tie, heading to his expansive suite that lay behind the large wooden door at the far end of his office. "Can you come to my room when you're done?" An unexpected heat began to pool in Eliot's stomach. He could feel himself stir in his pants even though his better judgement told him Damien would be passed out cold or would just want to cuddle. The man was quite sweet when he trashed out of his mind.

"Of course, Damien. Go take a cold shower and a few aspirin," Eliot said. Damien nodded as he stumbled into his private haven.

Eliot dreaded the conversation he was going to have with Chapman. The man's heart was going to break but it was clear that Damien's feelings were strong enough to bring about an apology, which never happened. Eliot couldn't help but feel trapped. However, the heat that Damien was able to elicit from him, was not the pure heat of lust he felt for Chapman. His feelings for Damien went much deeper than just wanting sex. 

Eliot opened the doors to the study and he found Chapman leaning up against the wall. The hurt look in his eyes let Eliot know he had heard at least part of the conversation. Closing his eyes, Eliot braced himself for the yelling, but it never came.

"What did he say? You know, other than him asking you to spend the night with him," he spat bitterly.

"Damien wants you to take point on this whole Keller thing. Take one or two guys with you that don't mind getting their hands dirty. I would suggest Quinn even though you're not a big fan of him. I know he respects you," Eliot said. Chapman raised an eyebrow at his boss, knowing something was being held back when Eliot shifted nervously from foot to foot. "He flat out said he loved me." As sad as Chapman looked, he still walked over to Eliot.

"No matter what happens, I'm here for you," Chapman said, clapping him on the back and walking away. As much Chapman craved being around Eliot, he couldn't deal with it at the moment. The very idea of Moreau confessing his love for Eliot made Chapman sick to his stomach.

Eliot wanted to tell Chapman he was there for him as well but with everything they had been through, it wouldn't sound genuine. Instead, he moved into Damien's suite where he was surprised to see the man was still conscious. His hair was drying messily and he was lounging shirtless with large grey sweats that were slung low on his hips. Eliot smiled when he saw that a pair of sweats had been laid out for him. Quickly he stripped down and climbed into the large king size bed. A cooking show was playing on the large flat screen TV that hung on the wall.

"I didn't know you liked watching these shows," Eliot said. As Damien snuggled into his head of security, Eliot wrapped his arm around Damien's waist, gently stroking his side and earning a soft shiver that was complimented by a moan.

"They remind me of you," Damien said, humming happily and slowly drifting off to sleep with his nose tucked into Eliot's neck


	7. Need You Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long it has taken to update my stories!! I have been going through some hard things and also some writer's block. But I am getting back to things! Look for multiple updates coming to all my multiple chapter stories soon for Leverage!! 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes you may find!

Chapter Seven: Need You Now

As sunlight streamed in the large windows of the bedroom suite, Damien groaned in pain as the bright light assaulted his senses. He snuggled deeper into the covers but when he saw Eliot curled up next to him he gasped in surprise and moved back slowly. He remembered getting drunk the night before but the events that took place _while_ he was drunk were a total blur. Damien kept as still as he possibly could as he watched Eliot sleep. The normally on edge hitter looked completely serene and at peace. Eventually, Eliot began to stir and soon the two men were gazing into each other’s eyes. A light blush crept into Damien’s cheeks and Eliot was unable to stifle his chuckle.

“You look like a deer in headlights, Damien. What’s wrong?” Eliot asked. “Since when are you so shy about who ends up in your bed.” Damien rolled his eyes.

“It is not _who_ is in my bed but rather _how_ you ended up here,” he replied. “Weren’t you supposed to be on your way to meet with Keller.” Once again, Eliot found himself laughing at his normally intimidating boss. 

“Last night you got totally trashed and begged me to stay here in San Lorenzo with you. You also confessed that you…” Eliot paused, “...that you loved me.”

The longer Damien stared at Eliot, the more little fragments of his memory came back. The emotions he had felt the previous night came back more strongly than concrete images. The strongest thing Damien had felt, and still felt, was an overwhelming sense of love. Damien groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He had always prided himself on never having a weakness. Now it was painfully clear, no matter how much he tried to deny it, that Eliot was his weakness.

“I...I do love you,” Damien whispered, refusing to look Eliot in the eyes. It was far easier to express what he was feeling when he could pretend that he was talking to himself. Eliot gave him a small smiled and placed a strong hand on Damien’s chest.

“I know. And I love you as well. I wouldn’t get so pissed about your mind games if I didn’t care,” Eliot said. Damien forced himself to look at Eliot and the hitter could see genuine remorse in the man’s eyes.

Eliot knew that talking about feelings was extremely difficult for Damien. He figured that it would be easier to physically express their feelings. Eliot slowly moved from being on his side to hovering over Damien. Ever so gently, their lips brushed together causing both men to let out sighs of contentment. Becoming more comfortable with the growing flame in the pit of his stomach, Damien took control. He tightly gripped Eliot’s strong hips and held onto him just hard enough that faint bruises were left behind. Eliot moaned in appreciation at the rough way he was being handled. Straddling Damien, he was perfectly happy to let his boss take full control. Both Eliot and Damien let go and surrendered themselves to the throes of ecstasy.  
****  
Quinn shifted uncomfortably in the plush leather seat on Damien's private jet. He got the vibe that Chapman was in a sour mood but he had no idea if there was anything he could say to make the man feel any better. Quinn was also slightly on edge about being chosen for the job in Sibenik. It seemed important with the way it had been described to him and the last thing he wanted to do was let Damien down. A beautiful flight attendant offered each man a glass of scotch on the rocks which they each accepted. Quinn gently swirled the amber liquid in the glass and admired how smooth it looked. Quinn was getting ready to enjoy the treat when he felt Chapman's eyes boring holes in him.

"Um…can I help you?" Quinn asked, looking around for some queue that he had made a mistake. The other man tilted his head to the side.

"Most of the security men are quick to flirt with Moreau's girls, yet you ignored her other than to politely thank her," Chapman recognized. "Any reason?" Quinn shrugged.

"She isn't my type," he said simply, finally taking a sip.

"A beautiful woman isn't your type, Mr. Quinn? I somehow find that hard to believe," Chapman taunted. He was frustrated with his current situation and picking on the new kid, even if he was a good operator, was making it easier to forget about Eliot. Quinn snorted.

"I hit for the opposite team, Chapman," Quinn said, snorting softly in amusement. "A beautiful man would have turned my head easily. Why the sudden interest in my love life? Did you get dumped?" 

"Screw you, Quinn," Chapman growled.

"Seems I am on to something with that theory. Did you get dumped or just flat out rejected? Because picking on me isn't actually going to make you feel any better," Quinn said. "Maybe a beautiful Croatian man will get your mind off of things."

"Honestly, a beautiful Croatian man is currently my problem so I doubt that would help," he replied, deflating and dropping his attitude. Quinn looked taken aback but felt like some progress was being made between the two of them.

"You got dumped by Moreau?" Quinn asked in total surprise. Chapman barked out a laugh.

"No, I got rejected in favor of Moreau. I think it might actually hurt more than getting dumped. It's like a slap in the face saying I'm just not good enough," Chapman whispered.

Quinn could tell just how hurt the other man was and moved to sit next to him. He put his hand on Chapman's knee and squeezed tightly. Quinn figured that Eliot was the other man in question but he didn't want to voice his guess since it would most likely cause more pain for Chapman. Looking over at Quinn, Chapman let out a shaky sigh and shook his head. He couldn't believe how stupid he felt.

"You probably think this is stupid. Three of the world’s most dangerous men are caught in a love triangle. Sounds like a bad movie," Chapman laughed, knowing just how ridiculous the whole thing sounded, even to him. Quinn couldn't help but snort in amusement. 

"Well you know what, it makes you seem more human. I was starting to think you had no weakness," Quinn teased, poking Chapman in the side. Chapman tried to glare at the hitter but was unable to keep a straight face. 

"So what brought you down to work for Moreau? You're a strong hitter, work can't be too hard to find," Chapman said, wanting to get away from the subject of his love life. Quinn leaned his head back and let out a sign.

“Even for a good hitter, work can be hard to find. I was reduced to working private security for some bratty rich kid. After six months of no fights, except with a petulant teenager, Eliot’s offer sounded amazing,” Quinn replied. “You’ve worked for Moreau a while now. How do you manage that? Most people are killed rather quickly from rumors I’ve heard.” Chapman groaned as he thought about his service to Moreau before Eliot had taken over security.

“I mainly tried to fly under the radar. The former head of security has his little group of close friends within security and anyone outside of that was often set up to be killed during a job. As long as I didn’t do anything to stick out, I was largely ignored. So while that rumor is true, for the most part it wasn’t Moreau killing off his security guards. Though before Eliot and I brought in the new staff, we were ordered to get rid of everyone,” Chapman explained. Quinn shook his head slowly. He honestly wasn’t too surprised by the fact that it was the security staff doing the killing in their own ranks. Damien Moreau was known for employing the most ruthless men. 

Quinn and Chapman slowly settled into a comfortable silence, Quinn’s hand still resting on the other man’s leg. Chapman relished in the feeling of having the attention all to himself. Even when he and Eliot had tried to kindle a romance together, Chapman always felt like he was in competition with Moreau. It was heartbreaking and extremely discouraging. Before the flight, he had found himself wondering if there was something wrong with him; something that repelled men in some way. Though Quinn’s moves were small and quite possibly only platonic, it was still somewhat comforting to be seen as desirable. 

Quinn watched his partner slowly close his eyes and let himself relax. A smile crossed his lips, glad that the man was seeming to let go of his hurt feelings for the time being. Quinn couldn't help but notice that Chapman was very attractive. Quinn softly ran his thumb over Chapman's clothed thigh which earned a soft sigh. 

“Are you trying to take advantage of me while I'm asleep?” Chapman joked, not bothering to open his eyes. Quinn snorted in amusement.

“As if. I'm just letting you know I enjoy this,” Quinn said. Chapman sighed and softly leaned his head against Quinn’s shoulder. 

“Just shut up and let me sleep,” Chapman retorted. Quinn gently kissed the top of his head before he too closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.


	8. Complications

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes you may find!

When The Storm Breaks: 8

Chapter Eight: Complications 

An annoyingly high pitched beeping filled the still dark room that Quinn and Chapman occupied. Chapman groaned loudly as he slammed his hand down on the device. For a few moments the two men lay in their beds staring up at the ceiling. Each had a sense that something was off about the job but they were unable to figure out what it was. Eventually Quinn forced himself to sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed, though he had no real desire to be up before the sun.

"Why exactly are we getting up so early? Our meeting isn't until this afternoon, we know where we are going, and no one is here telling us we have to get up," Quinn grumbled. Chapman laughed.

"So I'm assuming you've memorized the layout of where we are going and know every possible escape route. Those routes have to lead from the house to the private jet that will be on standby for our quick departure out of the country. I don't want to be here any longer than we have to be," Chapman said. Quinn was silent for a few moments.

"Not yet, but we can still get all that done if we get up around ten," Quinn pointed out. "We've both done jobs a lot more dangerous than this in a much shorter period of time." Chapman just stared at the young man. He was used to Eliot's mentality of only sleeping a few hours a night and constantly being on the move. It was almost refreshing to have Quinn pushing so hard to still be able to relax.

"Fine, we will get up at ten," Chapman said, resetting the tiny clock. 

As Chapman was rolling over to settle back into sleep, a weight pressed down at his back. Quinn's arm was soon thrown over his waist and his nose was pressed against the back of Chapman's neck. Taken aback by the sudden closeness, Chapman lay stiffly next to the other man. 

"Do you ever relax?" Quinn mumbled into his back. "You are tense."

"Of course I'm tense. You just made yourself at home in _my_ bed," Chapman pointed out. He shivered involuntarily when he felt Quinn press a few light kisses to his back and neck.

"Relax, Chapman. I sleep better when I can hold on to someone," Quinn explained. Chapman continued to be as stiff as a bored until his desire to sleep took over.  
****  
Eliot sat out on the large patio outside of Damien's bedroom, enjoying the sun as well as getting some work done. He had a long list of security concerns to fix around the house. He was updating the alarm systems and had been considering putting in two new safe rooms in case of another inside threat. While he was busy researching various systems and vaults, Damien sauntered outside with plates of food for them both. Eliot cocked his head to one side.

"How domestic of you," he teased. 

"You know me," Damien retorted, taking a seat opposite his head of security. "Take a break from work. It isn't good to eat and work at the same time. You won't get any real enjoyment out of the food." Sighing heavily, Eliot shut his computer and pulled his breakfast to him.

"What's on your mind? You normally have no problem with me working 24 hours a day," Eliot pointed out. Damien shrugged.

"I was curious if you have heard from Chapman. Surely they've arrived in Sibnek by now," he replied. 

"I got a quick text saying they had landed and checked into the hotel. I haven't received any further updates on how things are going. No doubt they are making sure they have a clean getaway route," Eliot said. Damien raised an eye brow.

"My sources in Croatia tell me John Douglas Keller arrived early this morning at his brother's house. I suspect he is expecting a fight. He knows he has wronged me," Damien rolled, violently stabbing at a grape with his fork. Eliot felt himself tense up at the news.

"Are you going to warn Chapman?" Eliot questioned. 

"I'm telling you. It is your job to pass along such information. You know as well as I do that everything goes through the head of security," Damien pointed out. Eliot sucked in a sharp breath. He knew Chapman was going to react badly to being told so late. Eliot also knew that there was little chance his number two would believe the story that Damien had just shared the information. Chapman was angry with him and had every right to be. 

Pulling out his phone, Eliot dialed Chapman's number but hesitated before he pressed the call button. He couldn't help but feel that delivering bad news would only create more tension between them. Damien noticed the worried look on Eliot's face and he moved his chair around to sit next to the hitter. Damien wrapped an arm around Eliot's shoulder and squeezed.

"You don't hesitate to jump in front of a bullet but you are afraid to call your second in command?" Damien asked. "Is there something you would like to loop me in on?" Eliot groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He had wanted to keep things between him and Chapman under wraps but it was clear that it was impairing his judgement. 

"Chapman expressed his interest in me and I did reciprocate the lust side of the attraction," Eliot said. "After our kiss in the vault and then your clear declaration of love for me I turned him down and while it seemed like he was understanding, I'm not entirely sure that's how he really feels." Damien stared at Eliot for a few beats. 

"I see," Damien said quietly, pulling away slightly. 

"Damien, I love you," Eliot said firmly, clearly understanding why the older man was starting to pull away. His boss looked skeptical, but Damien didn't move away from the table. 

"Just call Chapman and get it over with," Damien snapped. Eliot felt the pit of his stomach drop out at the tone Damien had taken on but he had to put it out of his mind and deal with making sure his men weren't walking into a trap. 

In Croatia, Quinn and Chapman sat just far enough away from the large house that the Keller family was living in that they wouldn't be noticed, yet close enough that they were able to keep an eye on any activity. A few hours after getting up, all escape routes had been planned and Moreau's private jet was fully fueled, ready to take off at a moments notice. 

While the two were waiting for the exact meeting time, Quinn laced his fingers through Chapman's to let each other feel grounded. When Chapman's phone rang, breaking the peaceful silence, both men tensed up. A phone call near the start of a job was never a good sign. 

"Hello?" Chapman answered.

_It's Eliot,_ the voice replied. _Moreau just received word that John Douglas Keller is at his brother's house._

Chapman clenched his jaw at Eliot's mention of Moreau. He knew he needed to move past the sting of a broken heart but it wasn't easy. Quinn gently rubbed his thumb over the back of Chapman's hand. It seemed to relax him enough that he was able to carry on a cool and collected conversation. 

"Does Moreau want him killed as well?" Chapman asked. There was a pause of silence on the other end of the line as Eliot discussed the options with their boss. 

_No, leave him alive and make sure he witnesses his brother and in laws die. John needs to be broken down so much that he never attempts this again,_ Eliot said. 

"Understood. We will call you from the plane when the job is done," Chapman said, hanging up the phone before Eliot had any chance to reply. Quinn raised an eye brown but knew better than to bring up personal feelings. 

"That didn't sound like anything good," Quinn mentioned. "Did we add another name to the kill list?" Chapman let go of the breath he was holding. He hadn't realized how nervous he had been about speaking to Eliot. 

"The mark's brother is here. Moreau doesn't want us to kill him though. John Douglas is the one who moves all of the artifacts through customs into the US and other countries. Unfortunately he is good at his job so we can't get rid of him. Recently he tried to pass some artifacts off, with the help of his brother, as genuine when they were actually forgeries. Moreau wants us to force him to watch us kill his family," Chapman said. Quinn felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. He never considered his moral compass to point due north but there were certain things he had never been comfortable with. Killing children was certainly on the list and breaking someone's psyche through killing their family was definitely on the list as well. 

"I guess it's a good thing I really need this job or I would be considering backing out," he said softly, letting go of Chapman's hand. Quinn noticed that he received a warning look. 

"I would keep your moth shut about that. It's a good way to get yourself killed. You work for Moreau now, your feelings about ethics no longer matter," Chapman said firmly. Quinn nodded and took in a steadying breath. 

"Then let's do this shit," Quinn grumbled, checking both his guns and his stash of throwing knives. Chapman gave him a grim look as they both got out of the car. 


	9. The Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so first off I am so sorry that it took me just over a year to update this story!! I have been struggling with massive writers block on a lot of my works and now I feel so guilty! I promise I am going to try to work harder to update but I can't make any promises. I will do what I can and hopefully the inspiration takes over again! Sorry for any mistakes that I missed while I was editing!
> 
> Happy Reading & Enjoy!! :)

Chapter Nine: The Job 

The tension was evident when Quinn and Chapman walked into the Keller household. Alexander Keller and his brother John were standing in the main foyer of the home to greet the two security men. From the look on John's face, it was clear to Chapman that he was expecting a blood bath. Both he and Quinn did a quick count of bodyguards and knew that there was a good chance of them not getting out alive, they were clearly outnumbered. Chapman steeled himself for the nasty outcome but he could see the apprehension in Quinn’s face. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss the other man and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Making it look like an accident, Chapman bumped into his number two and gave his arm a light squeeze. Quinn hummed softly to let him know he understood the message being passed along.

"Keller, I thought we agreed not to bring extra people with us," Chapman drawled. "Surely you aren't going back on your word." John stepped forward as if to protect his brother. Chapman couldn’t help but smirk.

"Of course not, we would never dream of crossing you, and by extension, Moreau," he said softly. He raised one hand and with a slight wave the security backed off until they could no longer be seen. Quinn, however, was still extremely uneasy. Just because the threat was out of sight didn't mean it wasn't there. Chapman rolled his eyes at the show. John Douglas knew what he had done and was prepared, which meant Chapman could drop all pretense of friendship. 

"If that were the case, why would you even dare to pass off forgeries of ancient artifacts? You will pay for your stupidity, in one way or another," Chapman snarled. "Could you be so naive to think that no one has tried to pull the wool over Moreau's eyes before? A child could have inferred that Moreau has someone verify all artifacts before they are turned around for a profit." The color drained out of John's face and his brother turned to him with a genuinely horrified look on his face. 

"What have you done?!" Alexander exclaimed. "I have a family to think about! How dare--" he protests were cut short by a single bullet to the head. Both Quinn and John Douglas sat in horror as Chapman placed his gun back in its holster. He had drawn the weapon so quickly that no one had noticed until it was too late.

"As I said, you're going to pay. But not with your life. You will have to live the rest of your days knowing that you're the reason your brother's family was extinguished. And if anyone of your guards dare to fight back, Eliot Spencer will personally come after you," Chapman snarled. "Now if you would so kindly bring the rest of your in laws to the foyer, it would be greatly appreciated." At the mention of Eliot, John Douglas went still. Though Eliot had not worked for Moreau very long, his name was still well known and greatly feared. 

Stumbling over his own feet, John stumbled out of the foyer. Frantic screams for his family could be heard by Chapman and Quinn. Much to their surprise, the threat of Eliot seemed to hold fast as no security appeared to confront them. Eventually the noise of the house turned to a dull roar as Quinn blocked out the extra noise. He cast a glance at Chapman from the corner of his eye. Though the seasoned mercenary seemed to be calm on the outside, Quinn could feel the nervous energy radiating off of him. 

“Is this really going to be so easy?” Quinn whispered. Chapman let out a heavy sigh.

“I’m guessing we will be in danger once the family is dead. Those security men may work for John Douglas but they are most likely also loyal to his family as well. It only takes one getting the bright idea of revenge for us to get killed,” he replied. Quinn curled his hands into fists and cracked his knuckles. “Relax, Quinn. The more you tense up, the more likely a fight is going to happen.”

“I’m trying, but I can honestly say it is rare for me to be in this situation,” Quinn said. The other man gave him a funny look. 

“How is that even possible? You’re a very well known and frequently used hitter,” Chapman pointed out. “I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of people who want you dead.” 

“Yes, but this is the first time that I’ve cared more about someone else’s life than my own,” Quinn admitted, a deep blush rising up in his neck and cheeks. “You know as well as I do that that puts us in a dangerous position if I think with my heart and not my head.” Seeing that they were both still very alone in the foyer, Chapman quickly laced his fingers through Quinn’s and gave the other man’s hand a light press.

“Normally I would tell you to get your feelings in check. But since Moreau isn’t here to protect and it is going to be us against them, feel free to think with your heart. Because I can tell you right now that anyone who hurts you, is getting put down,” Chapman growled, not bothering to hide how he felt about Quinn. Kissing him quickly, Quinn pulled out both of his hand guns. 

“Then let’s get this shit done,” he chuckled. 

John Douglas soon returned to the foyer with his brother’s whole family. While Chapman had extinguished his fair share of families before, his stomach still clenched with anxiety right before the execution. It normally took him a few days to decompress after ending people’s lives so violently, but Chapman could only hope that having Quinn by his side would ease the conflict he felt. Chapman nodded to Quinn and moved to stand behind the smuggler’s family. Forcing them to kneel on the floor, he decided to start with Alexander Keller’s wife first. He placed the gun at the base of her skull and pulled the trigger. With a loud bang, she collapsed to the marble floor, crimson blood pooling around her head. As the young children saw the death of their mother, their frightened screams echoed around the large entry hall. Quinn moved forward and pulled John Douglas away to prevent him from stopping Chapman. The job had to be finished, or Moreau would come for them all. As quickly as it had begun, the execution was over. Quinn let go of the smuggler who fell to his knees, staring at his deceased family.

“Moreau is expecting a double shipment to make up for the losses you caused him,” Chapman said coolly. “You have one month to procure the items. And this time, Spencer and myself will be collecting them from you in person. But mark my words, Keller, you won’t be so lucky the next time you fuck up.” 

Stepping over the bodies, Chapman walked over to Quinn. The two men nodded one last time at John Douglas before they headed toward the exit. Both were still in a fighting mindset, just waiting for something to wrong. They were nearly clear of the threshold when a gunshot rang out across the foyer. Spinning around, Chapman and Quinn tried to figure out where it had come from. Much to their surprise, John Douglas was still very much alive. However, the horrified look on the smuggler’s face told Moreau’s men everything they needed to know. One of the Keller’s security had decided that vengeance was the best option in that moment. 

“Chapman, baby, you’re bleeding!” Quinn gasped, immediately placing his hand over the bullet wound in his chest. Chapman looked down, too much adrenaline pumping through his veins for the pain to truly set in. 

“We need to leave now,” Chapman gasped, pressure starting to build up on the right side of his chest. 

Not even bothering to return fire, Quinn quickly helped Chapman out to the car and shoved him into the passenger seat. Jerking the car away from the curb, Quinn stepped on the gas and flew through the streets. He pushed the car well beyond its limits of speed and narrowly managed to avoid two separate traffic accidents. All at once, the pain bloomed in Chapman’s mind and he doubled over. Waves of nausea set in and he grabbed a paper bag from the back seat before he lost the contents of his stomach. Chapman’s head was pounding as he tried to process exactly what he was feeling.

“Can’t breathe,” Chapman gasped. Quinn let out an anguished cry and fumbled for his cell phone. Thankful for remembering to set his speed dial, Quinn hit one number and waited anxiously for Eliot or Moreau to answer.

_Is the job done? _came Eliot’s voice.__

__“El, I need help! As we were leaving, Chapman took a slug to the chest. He is having a hard time breathing!” Quinn all but yelled, yanking the car around a sharp corner. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” There was a momentary pause before Eliot’s security training took over._ _

___Get to the jet immediately, there are two doctors on board in case of things like this happening. You’re being extracted back to San Lorenzo. We have a clean up crew one city over. They will grab your things from the hotel, _Eliot instructed. _Make sure that Chapman stays conscious! Now hang up the phone and drive, Quinn.___ _ _

____Quinn pressed the end call button and continued to drive at a breakneck speed. While in reality the tarmac was only a five minute drive from the Keller household, it felt like it took a lifetime to make the drive. Quinn kept shaking Chapman and doing anything he could think of to keep the man awake. The entire front of Chapman’s dress shirt was soaked in blood and Quinn’s hand was coated as well. At the point of panic Quinn had reached, he wasn’t even trying to make sense of the various street signs. All he could do was get to the private jet. At long last, he pulled the car to a stop and all but threw himself out of the driver’s seat. As fast as he could, Quinn dragged Chapman out of the car as well and hoisted him up into his arms. Chapman groaned at the movement but was content to rest his head on Quinn’s shoulder._ _ _ _

____“You’re stronger than you look,” Chapman whispered._ _ _ _

____“Make it through this and I will show you just how strong I am,” Quinn said. Though he was trying to sound playful, the tearful strain in his voice was evident._ _ _ _

____Chapman was about to respond when the two doctors appeared and removed him from Quinn’s arms. He tried to protest being taken away from Quinn but found that he was unable to form coherent sentences. The two men dressed in white lab coats got Chapman on board first before helping Quinn up the stairs next. While the two doctors attempted to stabilize Chapman, who was on the brink of losing the battle to stay awake, a young nurse began to check Quinn over for any injuries. His body was shaking and now tears were streaming down his face. He could hear questions being asked of him but nothing was making sense in his mind. All he could do was stare at Chapman and pray that the man was as hard to kill as rumors said._ _ _ _


End file.
